


Faithful

by UltimateDespairs



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: AU, Oneshot, Soren-Centric, don't count on me for anything ever, i always say i'm going to write sequels to these things but i'm so unreliable and sporadic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateDespairs/pseuds/UltimateDespairs
Summary: As the Prince of Daein, Soren of course has a faithful mount, one he has had almost as long as he can remember. A half-mad wyvern, called the black terror of the skies in Daein. But of course, this wyvern is not a wyvern at all - a fact that will shatter whatever happiness a misplaced boy could ever have.





	Faithful

Soren hated it here, in this foreign nation. In Crimea.  
  
He loathed it, really -- the sun drenched skies, the fertile ground, the cowardly citizens and the warm air. The air especially reminded him of Gallia, and such couldn’t be tolerated for him. The heat, especially dressed in his battlemage robes, was suffocating.  
  
It was clear he belonged back home, in Daein, where snow touched his hair and frost chilled his skin, enough to make him feel alive and alert rather than dull and dreary. Of course, the reason for his and his father’s presence here was simple. Daein needed fertility. Daein needed the warmth of spring, at the moment, not the harshness of it’s north. Of course.  
  
But really, it was never that simple, not with Ashnard.  
  
Soren had gotten used to it, over the years -- his father’s increasingly alarming fits of madness. His mother, when he was younger, had tried to take him away from such a dangerous man. But, her attempts had been foiled, over and over. Eventually, it got to a point where she had to be dragged from the castle, Soren merely a child as he watched with slight horror.  
  
“She thought to bring you to her father,” Ashnard had explained, later, one of the few times he had explained anything.  
  
“Mother’s...father…?”  
  
“That’s right. Your damned grandfather. There’s a man that I’d like to go against. But he’ll never move one way or the other. And he’ll never take you, either. If you want to try running after your mother to get to him, be my guest, but you will starve to death, Soren.”  
  
Ever a smart child, Soren had chosen life and security over sentimentality - though, the heart a practical and pragmatic existence had tried to harden still throbbed with something like unease and loss at his mother’s removal from his life.  
  
_I shouldn’t be remembering this now._ _  
_ _  
_ “S-Sir! Prince Soren!” One of his soldiers scrambled to his side, offering a report. Soren glanced up, out of his reverie, tilting his head. The panicked look in the soldier’s eyes...did not bode well.  
  
And the news supported his observations.  
  
“...The Black Knight has fallen.” Soren droned softly. “...And this force...is coming here, now?”  
  
“Y...Yes, sir…”  
  
“Did you tell my father of this?” Soren’s voice went sharper, and the soldier blanched.  
  
“O-Of course, but he simply said...to take this news to you. You are the only tactician we have left, after all…”  
  
_Of course he did. He probably laughed as he did it. Father has truly gone mad._ _  
_ _  
_ “Very well. We must defend the castle, first and foremost. Defend the king.” Soren glanced down at a battle map of the area. “...Crimea is fertile, and we have taken in piles of provisions. We can survive a siege if need be.”  
  
“...Will...it come to that, sir…?”  
  
Soren’s fingers danced over the map, and eventually the tips brushed against a chess figurine. A queen. The most powerful piece on the board...A sly smile crossed his lips.  
  
“No. It won’t.” His eyes ran over the terrain. “...Answer me true. What would you do if my father and I fell in battle?”  
  
“My...My Prince…?”  
  
Soren glanced up, eyes narrowed in distaste.  
  
“Do not lie to me. I will know. Your mind is an open book for a dragon to read.”  
  
“S-Sir…!”  
  
“Answer. Honestly.”  
  
The soldier was sweating, nervous. “....To tell it true...I...I suppose I would run back to my family, sir…”  
  
“...Honesty is preferred.” Soren nodded, glancing over the map. “Without a leader, these Crimeans fight for nothing. We merely have to take out their Queen, and they will scatter just as you would.”  
  
“...Queen...Elincia?”  
  
“No.” Soren lifted the piece, humming. “Their Commander. Ike.”  
  
He dropped the piece onto the map, humming. Elincia...she didn’t inspire, like Ike did...  
  
“Commander Ike…? I-I’ve heard the man fights like a demon -- he defeated the Black Knight…!”  
  
“Yes. But from your report, that was a duel.”  
  
This Ike had been a bother for quite some time. An irksome mercenary boy that refused to be bribed, refused to sell out his honour, and refused to die. It was as annoying to Soren as it was admirable. Such a thing was rare, these days.  
  
“We will overwhelm as best we can with troops. I will go.”  
  
“My...my prince? You?”  
  
“...I am not as fragile as you may have heard. I will lead. While I am getting rid of this bother, Father will have time to double our defenses. Even if I fail, their army will be damaged by my assault.”  
  
“...I...I understand, my prince.” The soldier swallowed. “Should...I tell your father of this?”  
  
“Yes. I must prepare to leave.”  
  
With one last look at the map, Soren finally turned, leaving the battle tent. His head was swimming with strategies.  
  
_This is truly it. We’ve been pushed back to Crimea -- Nevassa is taken, and Daein in ruins. This is our last chance...I must destroy Commander Ike and Princess Elincia once and for all._ _  
_ _  
_ From what he had heard, defeating Ike would be enough. Princess Elincia was just a barely trained slip of a girl. She couldn’t lead, from what he had heard - not that he blamed her. That was her father’s fault, for keeping her so away from court and politics.  
  
He gathered his troops, as many as he could, before hopping on his mount - it was a savage black wyvern, big enough to eat a man whole. His father had given the beast to him a few months after his mother had left. It had been hard to tame, but would be remotely calm only around Soren -- even his father hadn’t been able to control the beast himself.  
  
Leading from the skies was easier -- he could scout out the area, prepare better. Of course, he had no doubts that the Crimeans had wyverns and pegasi to fly upon, but likely their tacticians specifically did not. Likely, anyway.  
  
_It’s a sizeable force...mmm…_ _  
_ _  
_ He would have to try, at least. If he could simply get to Ike --  
  
_I can end this once and for all...and if I die…_ _  
_ _  
_ Well, perhaps that was natural, given what he was. At least he would have done his duty as a prince to the end.  
  
_I can only hope Father has the sense to retake Nevassa as I suggested, should I fall. Yet somehow, I find myself doubtful._ _  
_ _  
_ Conflicting thoughts going through his head, finally, he launched an attack on the Crimeans - they seemed surprised, but resourceful, and able to have quick reactions - once they did react, Soren was able to see that the rumours about Commander Ike were not just mere gossip.  
  
_He truly does fight like a demon._ _  
_ _  
_ It was breathtaking, really - how could he be so fast? And so strong? He was hauling around a two handed sword with one hand…!  
  
And yet, Soren had to take him down. Or die trying. There wasn’t a point to trying anything else -- he was stuck, in his position as a prince. With the blood of a Branded.  
  
He had a duty, and had nowhere else to go. He’d always been made painfully aware of that. Both of those facts…  
  
_This boy, and the princess...they will have no sympathy for me. Nor...should they…_ _  
_ _  
_ So it wasn’t surprising when Ike viciously sliced him down, barely breaking a sweat, those cold, harsh eyes looking down at him disdainfully. Soren toppled, falling in a heap off his mount, bruises and cuts adorning his skin, hair broken out of it’s binds. His wyvern roared next to him, strangely defensive of him for how feral it was purported to be.  
  
Daein soldiers, of course, only followed the strong - when they saw that Soren had fallen, they retreated, almost as naturally as if it had been a command given prior. Soren cursed, trying to push himself up, but failing - the wounds the other had given him, particularly a slash across his leg, were simply too severe for his body to recover enough to sit up, let alone stand.  
  
“...S-Soren…!”  
  
A voice, familiar to Soren, but one he hadn’t thought he would ever hear again suddenly rang through the air. The boy Commander -- Ike -- turned, eyes wide with surprised. A moment later, Soren’s eyes mimicked the same look.  
  
“...Lady...Ena?”  
  
It was her -- but Soren had been told she had been killed. Yet here she was, a somewhat familiar face among the crowds of Crimeans and Laguz.  
  
_A traitor…_ _  
_ _  
_ Ena had been one of his father’s tacticians -- and a dragon that Soren had simply assumed was a friend of his mother’s. Despite Soren’s Branded nature, she had never shunned him for it, something that was rare enough for Soren to note.  
  
Ike’s gaze flickered from Ena to Soren, and he took a step back, apparently in contemplation. To Soren’s continued surprised, Ena gasped, and rushed over to his hurt wyvern, the beast protective and whining in it’s agony. Soren couldn’t help feeling guilty at the sounds. His wyvern had been his companion since he was a child. Well, he supposed if he himself was about to die --  
  
“Oh, Rajaion, I’m so very sorry...so sorry…”  
  
Soren blinked in surprise. Rajaion? Had she called his wyvern that? But why…? The name. He knew it, of course.  
  
_Mother often told me stories of my uncle Rajaion...how she wanted me to meet him as soon as possible...but...that…!_ _  
_ _  
_ Soren pushed himself up despite the agony, glancing over -- his vision was blurry, but he could hear fine, and what he heard was akin to a chorus of angels, a symphony of peaceful notes and lulling beats. So peaceful that for a few moments, his mind went blank, and he forgot about conflict and war -- forgot about almost everything, for a moment.  
  
And then, his wyvern was not a wyvern. But a man. A man looking much like Soren, cradling in Ena’s arms. Soren could scarcely believe it. How could he believe it?  
  
_A Black Dragon, like my mother? This can’t…_ _  
_ _  
_ His mind whirled as he struggled to think back. The beast had been rampaging, feral, untamable, and then Ashnard had tossed his son into the pit it had been staying in, even as Soren writhed and shrieked with sheer terror. Soren had only been eight; he shook and trembled, sure that his father was going to feed him to a wyvern for being weak.  
  
But then something strange had happened. The wyvern had stopped its stomping and roaring, instead staring down at Soren with mad, half aware eyes. Soren had remembered thinking they looked almost human, as he trembled in fear, preparing for death.  
  
It never came.  
  
Instead, the beast bowed it’s head -- to him! A beast even his father hadn’t been able to tame had bowed its head around him, been calm around him. Slowly, feeling instinctively that it was what he should do, Soren had reached forward with a pale and shaking hand, petting the beast across the forehead. Again to his surprise, the beast didn’t bite his hand off or roar or anything of the sort. Instead it had whined, almost piteously, but hadn’t shown anymore signs of aggression.  
  
The child that Soren had been stayed in that pit for hours, slowly petting the beast, trying to calm it down. At last, his father had returned to the pit, and now the wyvern -- his wyvern -- was curled around him protectively, scales flaring as Ashnard came in as if it would protect Soren with it’s life.  
  
And Soren had never forgotten how his father laughed and laughed.  
  
Now, though, his mount was a man. One injured and frail, one that looked so much like himself in the mirror, like the faint memories he still had of his mother. He couldn’t believe it. How could he? He could only stare, frozen and still injured, static in his ears.  
  
“I...I don’t understand.” Ike was saying, snapping Soren out of his panicked state, just a little. “...You’re saying...this is your love? This is the Prince of Goldoa…?”  
  
“Yes,” Ena spoke quietly, clearly trying to comfort Rajaion in what was clearly his final moments. “...Ashnard...he did this to him. Made him feral...trapped in the body of a beast always. And then...he forced Soren to…”  
  
“Soren…?”  
  
Ike looked quickly from Soren to Rajaion, noting the resemblance immediately. Even a mercenary like him, could put this together. “Wait, so…”  
  
“Rajaion’s sister is Soren’s mother. For all these years...he’s been watching over him...even if he wasn’t completely sane, he still…”  
  
Ena’s voice broke, and she spoke no more -- Soren had never been in a worse state of shock. His faithful mount, his faithful beast -- it wasn’t a beast, at all? It was his uncle…?  
  
He felt as though he was going to be sick. Slowly, he crawled over to the man’s -- Rajaion’s -- side, without thinking. Perhaps it was simply instinct. Perhaps he could do nothing else.  
  
“...You’re…” Soren’s voice was small, so unlike the commanding voice he’d had before. “...My...uncle…?”  
  
Soren had thought all his family but his father had left him ages ago, whether by force or indifference. But this was…  
  
“You didn’t know?” Ike spoke, horror on his face, but Soren couldn’t even spare a look. This was…  
  
_How could my father do this…?_ _  
_ _  
_ No, it wasn’t how. In all honesty, he should have expected this. His father was a sick, mad King. Of course he would think this was hilarious. He had always thought it hilarious to strip Soren’s family away from him in the cruelest of ways.  
  
“...” Rajaion couldn’t speak, but he did look at Soren. Soren expected to see anger, frustration, resentment in his gaze -- but instead all he saw was a warmth, a genuine love of a family member, that Soren hadn’t seen in a decade. He gasped silently, eyes going wide.  
  
_...Why? I used you as a mount...because of me and my foolish plans, you…_ _  
_ _  
_ Even now, Ashnard was taking what could have been a kind spot of light for him, and drowning it in darkness. Soren’s chest ached, and his head throbbed.  
  
_No…_ _  
_ _  
_ Soren didn’t know what to say. He was simply staring in disbelief. What could he say, to this…?  
  
“...I’m…” He shuddered. “...So...Sorry. I’m...sorry.”  
  
Soren had never genuinely apologized in his life, but the words tumbled out. For a few moments, he thought he saw relief in his uncle’s eyes, but then such light went out, and his eyes slowly slid closed, Soren’s stomach lurching. Ena hugged Rajaion’s body tight, Ike covering the eyes of a little wide eyed red haired girl that had come up, curiously.  
  
Finally, Soren felt the crippling weight of his injuries as the initial shock of this revelation subsided. He heard Ena gasp his name softly, just as his mind sank into oblivion.  
  
\--  
  
When he woke, he was not dead, as he had expected. No, instead, he was in a tent, from the looks of it, stiff bandages on his stomach and leg and over his forehead. The aches from the wounds had subsided, likely thanks to staves.  
  
_How have I…?_ _  
_ _  
_ It had been daybreak when he had fallen unconscious. Now it was dusk. He wasn’t in Daein hands, by the shabbiness of the tent, and where he had fallen. So…  
  
_...Father must have fallen._ _  
_ _  
_ Unless he had fled? No. He knew Ashnard would be stupid enough to stay. Groaning softly, he sat up, rubbing his forehead.  
  
“...Ah, you’re awake…?”  
  
Soren jolted at the voice, looking over to see none other than the boy who had given him these injuries -- Ike. The mercenary leader, and commander of Crimea’s troops. A demon on the battlefield.  
  
_A boy my own age, likely._ _  
_ _  
_ “...What are you doing here?” When Soren spoke, his throat burned, and he felt that in slumber he had likely been coughing up blood without realizing it. “...Ike, was it?”  
  
“That’s right.” Ike nodded. “...guess I’ll just tell you -- your father’s dead. We managed to retake the capitol.”  
  
The news wasn’t a shock to him, nor did it cause him personal grief, but it did cause a certain sense of disbelief to go through him.  
  
_Father is dead…_ _  
_ _  
_ He’d thought him the strongest man alive - a hulking beast of a man that had towered over Soren’s entire life, as prominent to him as sunlight or the stars to others.  
  
Having him gone didn’t cause him grief, but a sense of certain shock did shoot through him. And he’d been defeated by Ike…  
  
“...I see. It is a surprise, then that I am not in chains. In fact, I seem to be quite free.”  
  
There were no chains, restrains, nor even the bars of a makeshift cell. Then again, Ike was here, seemingly standing guard.  
  
_Not completely free, then._ _  
_ _  
_ “...The Princess ordered that you be kept alive.” Ike said bluntly, eyes surprisingly soft, but still wary, as he looked over Soren. “...She didn’t want you killed, or imprisoned completely.”  
  
_Why would that be?_ _  
_ _  
_ “I see. Surprisingly generous to the son of the man who butchered her parents.” Soren said coolly, unimpressed. “What does she want, then?”  
  
“...Want?”  
  
“I am not so stupid as to think there will not be reparations for this war. How much of Daein land does she want? Or has she offered it to Begnion?” _Speaking of them,_ “I can only hope and pray she has not promised my hand to one of those loathsome senators.”  
  
Ike looked completely taken off guard, as if Soren was speaking the ancient tongue and he couldn’t understand at all.  
  
“...Reparations?” He finally managed, “...your father did more damage to Daein than we did, really. We’re...the Princess isn’t cruel enough to take more from you, as long as you aren’t as mad as your father.”  
  
Ike’s stare then turned cold and suspicious, if only for a moment.  
  
“...Are you? I don’t think you are...not with how you acted out there. Not with the stories we’ve heard of you.”  
  
Soren brushed back his own hair, absently, nervously though he would never admit that.  
  
“...I do not intend to continue this war, if that is what you are asking.” Soren clarified, opening his eyes. “...Such a thing at this point would be suicide, and I am the only heir to Daein. If I attempt such…”  
  
_Begnion will certainly overtake us for centuries to come._ _  
_ _  
_ “...That’s good to hear. I thought you might say as much.” Ike confessed, and now it was Soren’s turn to look upon him skeptically and suspiciously.  
  
“...I only mean…” Ike began to explain, “...he was cruel to you, wasn’t he? Doing such a thing to your uncle...even you can see how sick that was.”  
  
_Ah, yes. That._ _  
_ _  
_ Soren glanced aside, frustration and sorrow both mixing in his eyes as he recalled what Ike was speaking of. He couldn’t help but shudder, just a little.  
  
“...Are you...alright?” Ike seemed concerned, and Soren couldn’t help but scoff, just a little, doubting the sincerity of such a look. No one looked at him like that.  
  
_I suppose...my uncle did, if only for a moment…_ _  
_ _  
_ “I am fine. Or, I suppose I will be fine.” He lowered his hand from the back of his neck, again avoiding eye contact with this boy. “...I do have to wonder why you are here. Surely the Princess’ own bodyguard doesn’t have to stand guard over me. Especially not when I am as wounded as I am.”  
  
It wasn’t as though Soren could truly be a danger like this…  
  
“Are you certain you aren’t here to eliminate me for good?” Soren murmured, raising an eyebrow. That got a reaction out of the boy -- he bristled, and his eyes burned with blue fire.  
  
“O-Of course not! Crimea wouldn’t do that -- I wouldn’t, either!” He seemed quite offended at the suggestion.  
  
“Then why are you here?”  
  
Ike bit his lip, sighing softly.  
  
“...Would you believe me if I said I wanted to stay away from those stuck up nobles?” He finally spoke, “honestly...I don’t know how Princess Elincia can stand it…”  
  
“...I suppose I can understand that.”  
  
Slowly, Soren tried to stand up - only for agony to lace up his legs in vicious strikes. He bit his lip, and didn’t cry out -- but did end up back on the bed.  
  
“W-What are you doing?” Ike looked at him in disbelief. “You...you’re far too badly injured to be walking around. You almost died.”  
  
Soren cursed softly, feeling cold sweat begin to coat his skin anew. Ike was right -- he had clearly almost died. He was lucky to be alive. But still…  
  
“...I won’t have your Princess making a deal with Begnion to sell them Daein land. Even if we were the instigators of such a war...I still will not have such a thing.”  
  
Ike’s frown deepened, worry clear in his eyes. Hah. Perhaps he was underestimating Soren simply because of his size, thinking him just a child. That had to be the only possible reason for his pity.  
  
“...I told you, the Princess won’t do that.” Ike’s fingers ran over the hilt of his sheathed sword, apparently out of anxiety, or perhaps a sense of aching helplessness. “I’m sure such dull talks won’t happen for days, at least.”  
  
“...”  
  
Soren bit his lip, but there was nothing he could do. Once again, his thoughts drifted, back to the dragon that had in reality been family to him.  
  
_I still cannot believe...but I should not be surprised. I shouldn’t._ _  
_ _  
_ He wondered what his mother would say. He supposed with Ashnard dead, she would be free to return here, no longer a thorn in his father’s side. Or perhaps, as his father had claimed, her own father’s fierce neutrality had rubbed off on her at this point, and now she cared for him little if at all.  
  
_I have no one...well, I suppose such a fate was natural for someone like me._ _  
_ _  
_ “...If you’re certain. There is nothing I can do, anyway.” He finally spoke, numbness clawing at his skin. “...Regardless, you should go and try to tell the Princess I have awakened, and that I did not succumb to my injuries. I am sure she will want to hear such a thing.”  
  
Ike tensed, bristling a little. _Ah. He is fiery, then._ _  
_  
“...I don’t take orders from you, Prince Soren.” He huffed, “...but fine. She would like to know…”  
  
With that, Ike left, Soren left alone to his thoughts. Thinking of Daein, and the state it would be in...what he would have to do to make sure it still thrived…  
  
_I am to be King...first I must return to Daein. What state did these Crimeans leave it in? From what Ike said, it seemed as though they tried to avoid leaving so much damage in their wake - but can I truly trust a boy whose sword was bought with Crimean coin?_ _  
_ _  
_ His head hurt just thinking of all of it -- this hadn’t been what he had been expecting. Really, he had been expecting to either die on the battlefield, or kill Ike and end this war by destroying their strongest piece. Being alive was unexpected. Not being in line for execution even more so. What were these Crimeans planning…?  
  
_...They have to know of my blood. They must. They saw that my uncle was a dragon, and my father a beorc. They must know I am Branded...is it something to do with that?_ _  
_ _  
_ ...It didn’t matter anymore. He simply had to return to Daein. That was that. Whatever concessions these people tried to make…  
  
_I can only hope it isn’t humiliating beyond belief...but likely, it will be._ _  
_ _  
_ Sighing, he curled up in the makeshift bed, eyes fluttering despite the danger he knew was around him. He couldn’t help it - he was exhausted, physically, and even emotionally, though he would never admit such a thing. But it didn’t matter. Truly, Soren could never remember a time when his feelings, his desires, had mattered to anyone sincerely.  
  
_Perhaps this is my curse, for this Branded blood._ _  
_ _  
_ But if the Goddess though he would be easy to send to Oblivion, if she thought that this mockery of a life would send him into the depths of despair, she was sorely mistaken. Defiant to his fate, Soren would live. He had to. It was his duty, and that was that.  
  
_I will not succumb to this. I will live. And I will make Daein better off for it, even if the nobles of other nations scorn my blood, even if the Laguz invade for the affront of crowning a Branded. I will not roll over and die. Not to satisfy the whims of a Goddess who mocks me even now._ _  
_ _  
_ That was that, than. Simple facts.  
  
_I will live. No matter the cost._ _  
_ _  
  
_


End file.
